One Summer in San Francisco
by Emmie0928
Summary: Victoire's daughter Jackie is sent to stay with her uncle Louis in San Francisco the summer after she graduates from Hogwarts. Sequel to Unexpected and Victoire's Little Sister.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is the sequel to my other two stories-Unexpected (Victoire's story) and Victoire's Little Sisiter (Dominique's story). This one is about both Louis and Jackie (Vic's daughter). Reading the other two is probably not necessary to understand this, but it would probably make some parts of this story a bit clearer.**

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**Louis POV**

I'd always hated the airport. The crowds of muggles. The long waits. The metal detectors.

But over the years I'd grown used to them. After all, I'd lived in San Francisco for thirteen years. My family lived in England. Since Apparating such a long distance was impossible, flying the muggle way was pretty much my only option when I went to visit them.

As usual, it was family that brought me to the San Francisco International Airport one sunny day in early July. However, this time I was not there to board a plane for England. This time I was there to pick someone up.

My niece Jackie.

Her mum had written to me a couple weeks prior, begging me to let Jackie stay with me over the summer. I'd written her back to say that I would. I couldn't exactly say no. Not with everything Jackie had been through recently. It was understandable that she'd need to get away from everything for a while.

Right away, I could tell that the whole experience had changed her. It wasn't that she looked different. She had the same black hair and blue eyes has she had always had. And she certainly hadn't stopped caring about her appearance. In fact, she looked a little _too_ put together for someone who had just spent hours and hours on a plane. Her hair was in a stylish top knot and she was wearing a vintage concert tee and high-wasted shorts. Her countless bracelets jangled as she picked up her luggage and headed in my direction.

No, it wasn't her appearance that had changed. It was her entire vibe, her atmosphere. Dom's crazy psychic friend Liz would probably say it had something to do with her aura.

It was all in the way she carried herself. Back before the incident she'd almost bounce when she walked, her head held high, a giant smile on her face. Now she walked with her eyes shifted downward, her expression not a frown, but not a smile either. Just neutral. Like she couldn't bring herself to feel much of anything at all.

"Hey," she said, her voice flat.

I opened my arms for a hug, almost afraid that she wouldn't give me one. But she did. She carefully set down her suitcase and her guitar case and wrapped her arms around me. It was brief and stiff. I supposed that she'd received a lot of hugs in the past few weeks from people trying to comfort her. I'd always hated those kinds of hugs—the pity ones from adults you barely know. But my hug wasn't like that and so I couldn't help but feel a twinge of hurt that she responded the way she did.

"You're pretty dressed up for a plane ride," I said, trying to make conversation as we headed to the car. "I usually just where my pajamas."

Sad but true. My sister Dominique is always getting after me for being a bit lazy when it comes to my appearance. My hair always a bit too shaggy. My clothes never seem to just fit right. My other sister Victoire tells me that I'm the worst gay guy ever. "You're not even stylish!"

Jackie just shrugged.

Once we were both seated in the car, I tried again.

"How are your parents doing?" I asked.

"They're all fine," she replied.

When answering that question, most people would probably say they're _both_ fine. But Jackie had always considered her stepdad, Teddy Lupin, to be one of her parents. In a way she had two fathers—Colin (her biological dad) and Teddy.

"And Remus?" I asked.

Remus was Jackie's younger half-brother—Vic and Teddy's son.

Finally, she cracked a bit of a smile.

I had a feeling that talking about her family would be able to bring out the best in her. I'd never seen a more tight-knit family than hers. They were the kind of family that spent tons of time together and actually enjoyed it. They were the kind of family that could tell each other anything.

"Mum still says that he'll be the death of her," said Jackie in response to my question.

Remus had a pretty severe case of ADHD. He was constantly running around, full of energy, practically bouncing of the walls.

And with that we finally got a conversation going. The good kind of conversation where the words came easily, the kind with no awkward pauses. Jackie even laughed once. I smiled when she did. She'd always had a wonderful laugh, but I had a feeling no one had heard it recently.

"So I see you brought your guitar," I said.

Jackie's dad Colin had taught her how to play. He'd been in a band when he was younger. She'd also inherited his singing ability.

Instead of replying, Jackie fell silent again. I knew I'd said the wrong thing. Her familiar smile was replaced by that empty expression she'd been wearing earlier. She stared out the window and I could see that her hands were clenched into fists, her knuckled turning white, as if she was trying to stop herself from crying or screaming or lashing out at something.

The rest of the car ride was silent. Luckily the airport wasn't too far from downtown San Francisco and soon enough we had reached the apartment that I shared with my roommate Kate.

I pulled out my key and unlocked the front door.

"Here we are," I said, as we stepped inside. "Home sweet home."

The apartment was actually quite nice. The walls were exposed brick and Kate had ensured that it was always nicely decorated. But it was definitely small. We were co-owners of a shop in downtown San Francisco and although the shop was fairly successful, we were by no means rich, and it was all we could afford. But compared to the crappy apartment we had lived in when we were young struggling street performers this place was pretty great. There were no leaky ceilings, no cockroaches, no drug dealer neighbors.

Jackie had never been to my apartment before. Since my entire family lived in England and I was the only one in California, I was the one who had to travel to see them and not vice versa. I gave her a quick tour of the place. The apartment was mainly made up of one room that served as the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Connected to that were two bedrooms and a bathroom.

"We don't have a guest bedroom," I told her. "So you're going to have to sleep on the pull out couch in the living room. Is that okay?"

She just shrugged.

I took that as a yes.

"Alright," I said. "I'm gonna head to the shop now. I assume your mother told you that you'd be working there this summer?"

She nodded, not looking particularly enthused.

"I think you'll like it," I said, wondering why I was continuing to try to make conversation with her. "It's got a pretty cool vibe. It's both a bookstore and a coffee shop."

"Cool," she murmured.

"You can start work tomorrow," I said. "Unless you want to start today."

"I'll wait until tomorrow," she said. "Right now I'm gonna lay down and take a nap. The plane ride made me tired."

I nodded, secretly a bit pleased that I was going to be able to get away from her for awhile. She was almost too moody. I was starting to feel like I was in over my head. I didn't have the slightest clue how to deal with a troubled 18-year-old girl. Why had I told Vic I'd do this? Vic and I weren't even close. We'd never been close. Dom and I were close. Vic and Dom had become close when they got older. But not Vic and me.

Jackie had graduated from Hogwarts last month. She should have been back in England, trying to find a job at the Ministry or something. I'd thought that a summer in San Francisco would help her forget everything, but now I wasn't so sure. Perhaps it would have been better for her to stay in England and deal with this the hard way.

But it was too late now.

She was there for the rest of the summer.

What had I gotten myself into?

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**I didn't think that I would begin writing this story so soon after finishing Victoire's Little Sister, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to get started with it right away. **

**You guys are probably all wondering what happened to Jackie that's causing her act like this. It will be revealed in the next chapter, but for now feel free to speculate in your review.**

**This chapter was a little short, but I think they'll get longer as the story develops.**

**Anyway, thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. As always, please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Jackie POV**

After Louis left, I wandered over to a window and, peering out, I discovered that it led to the fire escape. I was able to push it open easily and I stepped outside, the fire escape creaking under my weight. I slid down into a sitting position and leaned my back up against the building. The view of downtown San Francisco was actually kind of great. And off in the distance I could see the Bay Bridge rising over the water.

I fumbled around in my purse for a moment before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighter. I was about to light one when the window of the neighboring flat slid open and a boy who looked to be around my age stepped out. He had in earphones and was holding an iPod. His wavy blond hair was covered in a ratty baseball cap. He wasn't gorgeous, but he definitely wasn't ugly either. He had the kind of face that a lot of girls would probably consider to be cute.

"Hey," he said, as I lit my cigarette. "I saw you out here and I thought I'd come say hello. You're Louis's niece, right? He said you were coming for the summer."

I nodded, taking a drag of the cigarette.

He made his way across the fire escape, the old metal creaking and groaning beneath him. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked.

I shrugged.

He seemed to take this as a yes.

"I'm Will," he said, sitting down next to me.

"Jackie," I said in reply, lifting my arm to brush a strand of hair from my face. My bracelets slipped down my arm as I did so, exposing the scars on my wrist. I saw Will's gaze move to them. I quickly lowered my arm.

_Great_, I thought. _Now he probably thinks I'm some sort of suicidal freak._

He didn't say anything about them though. He just grinned and said that it was nice to finally meet me.

I offered him a cigarette to be polite, but he shook his head. "I quit a few months ago," he said. "New Year's resolution."

"You actually follow through with those things?" I asked.

"Yep," he said. "This year I made two of them. Quit smoking and quit Anna Robertson. So far I've succeeded with both. "

"Quit Anna Robertson?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She's my on-again, off-again girlfriend. Well she was before my resolution. Now she's just my ex-girlfriend."

I took a final drag of the cigarette before putting it out and flicking it down between the metal bars.

"My parents would kill me if they knew that I smoked," I said. "Like literally skin me alive."

Actually my dad would skin me alive. Mum and Teddy would probably just Avada me, but that wasn't exactly something I could tell some random muggle, was it?

"I'm gonna go take a nap," I said, standing up. I was exhausted and no longer in the mood for conversation. Especially since I knew he'd seen my wrist. "The plane ride made me pretty tired."

"See ya," he said, staring down at the screen of his iPod as he scrolled through his list of songs.

"Bye," I said, stepping through the window and closing it behind me.

I lay down on the couch and stared at the scars on my wrist, annoyed that he'd seen them. I didn't want him to think badly of me. I wasn't sure why. It wasn't like he was my type. I usually went for the brooding, musician types. Not guys like him. Guys that looked like they spent most of their lives grinning and cracking jokes. Nice guys. Guys who _everyone_ liked.

I supposed that I just wanted a friend. I could use a friend while I was here. After all, I would be spending the entire rest of the summer in this city. And Will seemed like the kind of guy who it would be easy to be friends with. Nice. Easygoing. But now he probably wouldn't want anything to do with me. He probably thought I was depressed, maybe even suicidal.

The truth was that I wasn't. Well, maybe I was a little depressed, but I definitely wasn't suicidal. I'd only cut myself that one time. Right after I found out. And could you really blame me? I think a lot of people would do the same thing if they found themselves in my position.

Imagine finding out that fifteen minutes after you finished talking to him on the phone, your boyfriend put a gun to his head and blew his brains out. Imagine not knowing why. Imagine wondering if he'd given any warning that he was suicidal and you missed it. Imagine wondering why there was no suicide note, no explanation at all.

I think a lot of people would do something drastic like I did. Because I should have been feeling all sorts of things when I found out. Guilt. Sadness. Anger. But instead I just felt numb. Empty. So I cut myself hoping that it would make me feel something. Feel a little bit of the pain that he must have been feeling.

But once all the shock of his death had worn off, I'd realized that it wasn't something I ever wanted to do again. I had no real reason to want to hurt myself. Yes, my boyfriend had killed himself, but people died all the time. You had to learn to cope, to move on.

It had only been a week and a half ago that I did it, but it felt like so much longer. Like the whole experience had aged me way beyond my 18 years.

When my mum had found out what I'd done she'd freaked. She immediately wrote to Louis and asked him to take me in for the summer. A few days ago, I overheard her and Dom arguing about her decision to send me here when they thought I wasn't listening. Mum was saying how a change of scenery would be good for me. Dom was saying that Mum should to keep me close in order to 'make sure I didn't hurt myself again'.

They all thought that I was having suicidal thoughts. Like any moment they'd find me dead. I supposed I couldn't blame them. From their point of view, that was probably what it looked like. I just wished that they'd believe me when I'd tell them that it wasn't the case.

And to top it all off, they all thought that I was acting like this on purpose. Like I wanted to be depressed and unhappy all the time. Like I was purposely shutting people out and refusing any attempt to cheer me up. But that wasn't true. I wanted to be happy. I really did. It was just hard most of the time. Really hard.

I shifted around on the couch, wishing that I could just fall asleep. I was tired, but there was too much on my mind. There was always too much on my mind. This happened every night when I would try to sleep. I'd just lie there, wide awake, staring at the ceiling, a thousand different things things flashing through my mind.

I'd imagine Nick, my boyfriend, lifting the gun to his head.

I'd imagine the shot that rang out.

I'd imagine him slumping forward, dead.

And the blood. All the blood.

Then I'd remember the funeral.

The closed casket.

His mother sobbing uncontrollably.

I'd think about the rain that was falling heavily at the cemetery when they'd lowered him in the ground as I stood there, unable to tell if the water on my face was tears or rain.

And then I remembered the pain I felt when I slit my own wrist.

And the blood. All the blood.

I rolled onto my stomach and pressed my face into a pillow. Why couldn't I just sleep? I didn't want to think about these things anymore. I didn't want to think about them ever again.

Though sometimes sleep wasn't much better. Sometimes when I fell asleep I'd dream about him. Not about his death. No, I'd dream that he was still alive and we were together again. Laughing. Happy.

Then I'd wake up and he'd be gone again. And I realize that I would never see him again. Not in this lifetime at least. And the disappointment always washed over me like a tidal wave. It was like losing him over and over again when I had those dreams.

I just wished that I knew why he did it. Because that was the worst part, not knowing. Not knowing made it impossible to come to terms with him being gone. He'd never given any signs that he was suicidal, at least not any that I noticed. He'd never seemed depressed or unhappy with his life. Sometimes his song lyrics were kind of morbid, but I'd always just assumed he was trying to be artistic and different. He was a musician after all. I'd seen some of the songs my dad used to write when he was a teenager and they were just as bad, but my dad had never been depressed. He just wanted to get famous.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think about other things. Happy things. Things that wouldn't remind me of Nick.

Family.

Friends.

Quidditch.

The beach.

It was almost like Nick's death was a Dementor, sucking all the happy memories out of me, as I tried desperately to hold onto them. To use them against the Dementor instead. Like a Patronus.

Slowly the world began to fade away as I slipped away into another one. The world of dreams. Nick's death soared away from me. Gone for now. Gone until I awoke. Expecto Patronum.

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**This was a seriously quick update. Don't get to used to it though. School starts on Monday and it's my senior year, so I'm going to have a lot less time on my hands. I'll try to update as often as possible though.**

**Don't forget to review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Louis POV**

"I'm a fucking idiot."

My shop co-owner Kate and I were standing behind the counter of our store, going over a few things and talking about Jackie. The shop had closed and we were the only ones left.

Kate glanced up at me and grinned. "I've always known that, Lou."

"Haha," I said, rolling my eyes. "But seriously, what the hell was I thinking? Taking in a moody, troubled teenager. Am I insane?"

"Louis," said Kate, setting down the mail she had been looking through. "Jackie is your niece. She's not some random kid off the street. You've known her for her whole life. She's only here for the summer. This really can't be as bad as you're making it out to be."

"Erm, you haven't met her yet," I said. "She's, like, suicidal or something."

"I seriously doubt that," said Kate, tucking a bit of stray hair behind her ear. "Her boyfriend killed himself. I'll think she'll survive."

"Oh yeah," I said sarcastically. "Because teenage girls are always rational when it comes to their boyfriends. They never overreact or anything."

Kate sighed. "Louis," she said. "Look at me."

I turned my head in her direction.

"Look me in the eyes," she insisted.

"What?" I said, my eyes meeting hers. She was staring me down. "You're freaking me out."

"How long have you known me?" she asked.

"Thirteen years," I muttered, wondering where she was going with this. With Kate it was always hard to tell.

"And in those thirteen years have I ever let you down? Have I ever lied to you or led you astray in anyway?"

I shrugged. "How the hell should I know?"

"Well I haven't, okay?"

"Okay?" I said, the statement coming out more like a question.

Seriously, where was she going with this?

"I'm your best friend, right?" she asked.

"You're my only friend," I replied honestly.

I wasn't a social person. When I was twelve and I started to realize that I was gay, I'd stopped talking to all my friends. That was 18 years ago and the only friend I'd had in all that time was Kate. She was a muggle that I met when I first came to San Francisco. I was 17 and had just dropped out of Hogwarts the summer before my seventh year. She was 18 and looking for a roommate. She'd been hesitant when I'd first shown up on her doorstep asking her to let me live with her. She said that she was looking for a female roommate. But when I'd told her that I was gay, she agreed, but under one condition. I had to pretend to be her boyfriend when she needed me to. "Like if I need to make an ex-boyfriend jealous or something," she had said. I just shrugged and said sure. I desperately needed a place to live and if that meant holding her hand or making out with her once in a while then that was fine with me.

After that we'd pretty much clicked right away. We lived in the tiniest, nastiest apartment you can imagine and worked as street performers. I was a magician, always amazing people with my skills. "That looked so real," people would say, their eyes wide. "Almost like real magic." Kate was a dancer and she was absolutely amazing without any magic at all.

When we got a little older, we'd retired from our street performer careers and opened a shop. Originally it was just a coffee shop, but we expanded it to a bookstore a few years ago. I'd been sure that it would fail, but we'd lucked out. Business was great. People would come and mill about, drinking coffee, working on their laptops, browsing for books.

Now I was 30 and Kate was 31. Sometimes I couldn't believe so many years had passed. Sometimes I'd look up at Kate and expect to see the same 18-year-old I'd met 13 years ago. The girl with long, bleached blonde hair and dark roots. The girl with too much eye makeup and shirts that said things like 'fuck off'. But instead I'd see a woman with short brown hair and appropriate clothing. She was still a bit crazy though. She always, always said what was on her mind. Never held back. Ever.

"Right," she said. "I am your closest, bestest, onliest friend."

I chuckled.

"And therefore," she said, "you have to listen to what I'm saying."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that everything is gonna work out with Jackie. And I'm here for you. I'm always here for you. I got your back and you got mine, remember?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

"So are you going to stop worrying?"

I sighed heavily. "I guess so."

She just looked at me.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Kate. I will stop worrying."

"Good," she said simply and went back to looking through the mail.

"Look," she said a minute later. "The mailman accidently put this toy catalog in with our mail." She started flipping through it. "Aw," she said. "These kids are so cute." She looked up at me. "I want a baby."

"Well, you should find yourself a man first," I said.

She glared at me. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you can't have a baby without a guy to knock you up first," I said. "Don't get so defensive."

"You were implying that I can't get a man," she said. "Which is ridiculous, coming from you. The last boyfriend you had was Henry and you guys broke up, like, five years ago."

"Seven," I corrected her.

Her eyes widened. "Seven years? You haven't had a boyfriend in seven years? Oh my god, I didn't realize that it'd been that long."

"So?" I muttered.

"So, you're acting like I'm the one who can't get a man when it's actually you. I've only been single for the past year."

"Yeah, well, your boyfriends are all losers. At least I wait for someone with a bit of class."

"They aren't all losers."

"Wanna bet?" I asked. "Johnny got arrested for growing marijuana in his basement. Clint was married. Pete was married. There was that guy whose name I don't remember, but he didn't have job and he lived in mom's basement. I think he was growing weed down there too actually. You walked in on Andy cheating on you twice. Tony couldn't hold a job for more than two weeks because he was always drunk. And Chris…"

I trailed off. There was no need to say what Chris had done. She remembered just fine. After all, it would be hard to forget the guy who'd used her as his personal punching bag. It had been years ago. She'd been dating him when we'd met, but that was the kind of thing that stays with you.

She bit her lip. "Fine," she said. "My boyfriends have all been losers. But someday I'm going to find someone who will treat me right."

"I know you are," I said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.

She smiled up at me. '"Have I ever told you that I hate the fact that you're gay?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I think you may have mentioned it. Once or twice."

Or a hundred times.

"Seriously, though," she said. "If you were straight, I would have snatched you up so fast. You're like the perfect guy."

I just shook my head, laughing.

"I used to be so in love with you when I was younger."

"Yeah, you've mentioned that."

Like I said before, the girl didn't keep anything to herself.

She sighed. "But enough about me. You're the one who's practically a priest. You need a boyfriend. Like now."

"I'm perfectly happy being single," I said.

"Right now you are," she said. "But when you're 60 years old and still alone, you're not gonna be. You're just gonna be old and bitter."

"I just haven't met the right guy," I said. "And neither have you. But that doesn't mean we won't. We just have to be patient."

She sighed. "Patience is overrated."

"Patience is a virtue," I corrected her.

She rolled her eyes.

"Come on," I said. "Let's go home. You can meet Jackie. I'm sure that will be a pleasant experience."

When we arrived back at the apartment, Jackie was lying on the couch, watching television. She glanced up at us when we walked in the door. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," I said. "Did you have a nice nap?"

She shrugged.

"Er, okay, well, this is Kate. She's my roommate."

Jackie gave her a quick nod and then went straight back to the reality show she was watching. Apparently watching drunk people making complete fools of themselves was more interesting than us. Good to know where we stood, I guess.

"I'm gonna order Chinese food for dinner," said Kate. "Is that okay with you, Jackie?"

She shrugged again.

Can you dislocate your shoulder from shrugging too much? Because if you can, then Jackie was well on her way to doing just that.

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_I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. I've been busy with school. I wrote this chapter pretty quickly today, so I hope it's not too terrible._

_Don't forget to review!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Jackie POV**

When I woke up the next morning, Louis had left a note on the coffee table for me.

_Jackie,_

_Head on over to the shop when you wake up. I'll meet you there and we can start your training._

_Louis_

I sighed and glanced up at the clock. It was nine. Way too early to do anything in my opinion. I was not a morning person. At all.

But it wasn't like I had a choice. If I didn't show up for my first day of work, Louis would be pissed. He'd tell my mum and then she'd be pissed. Then she'd probably send me somewhere even worse as punishment. Like Siberia.

I opened my suitcase and began looking through it. Before I'd left, I'd put an extension charm on it, then proceeded to pack pretty much all the clothes in my closet. But I wasn't exactly sure what I was supposed to wear. Since it was a coffee shop, I assumed something casual.

I slipped on a beaded tank top, skinny jeans, and high heel ankle boots.

Okay, so it probably wouldn't fit most people's definition of casual, but I liked looking good. Unlike my mum, I had never been a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl.

The only problem with the boots was that they weren't the most comfortable shoes in existence. So even though the shop was only a few blocks away, walking there did not seem particularly appealing. I would have to Apparate. I knew the shop had probably already opened and that there would be muggles hanging about. But I also knew that there was an alley behind the shop that I could Apparate to. I'd seen it when Louis had driven past it on the way back from the airport.

After eating a quick breakfast and putting on some makeup, I spun on my heel and Disapparated. I landed in the alley, stumbling a bit. I still hadn't gotten a hang of landing in heels. I turned around and let out a gasp.

Will, the boy I'd met the day before on the fire escape, was standing by the dumpster, holding a trash bag and looking straight at me.

Shit. Shit Shit.

He'd seen me. He'd seen me appear out of thin air. Why had I thought Apparating here would be a good idea? Why hadn't I realized that there could be an employee in the alley?

I stared at Will, my eyes wide, waiting for his reaction.

But all he did was give me a quick nod, before turning and heaving the bag into the dumpster.

Wait, what?

He was a muggle. Why was he not freaking out about this? Had he not actually seen me?

I watched in stunned silence as he calmly opened the door and took a step inside. He held the door open and motioned for me to follow him.

"You know," he said, as I walked through the doorway, "you should be more careful where Apparate to. There could be muggles around."

I stopped walking and looked at him. "Aren't you a muggle?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Nope. I'm a squib."

"Oh," I said, surprised. "Wow. That's, erm…" I trailed off, not wanting to offend him by saying the wrong thing. Some people were pretty sensitive about being squibs.

He seemed to that I was feeling uncomfortable because he smiled. "I'm totally cool with being one," he said. "I don't think it's anything to be ashamed of."

"Yeah, you're right," I agreed. "It's definitely not."

We emerged from the back room and into the main part of the store. It was one big room. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with shelves that were crammed with books. In the middle of the room were tables, chairs, and a few overstuffed couches. There was a counter with a chalkboard menu hanging over it. The whole place smelled like freshly ground coffee.

"Wow," I said. "It's really nice."

"Yeah," Will agreed. "I've been working here for about two years and I really like it. Your uncle's a pretty awesome boss too. Better than the boss I had at my old job. That guy was a total douche."

I smiled. There was something about Will that made it hard not to.

"Louis told me that I should start training you," he said.

I nodded. "Okay, great."

I followed him behind the counter and he began showing me how to make the different types of coffee. I watched him as he worked. He was wearing the same baseball cap that he had been wearing the day before. It had the San Francisco Giants logo on it, and I could tell that it was old. The edges were frayed and the colors were worn. I had a feeling that there was a story behind it.

Something that I quickly noticed about Will was that he was constantly smiling. He had a dimple on his right cheek, and his eyes would sort of scrunch up when he laughed.

Toward the end of the day, he began letting me actually make the coffee for people.

"You're catching on really fast," he said, after I had finished a particularly complicated order for a particularly obnoxious customer.

He was standing over my shoulder and I turned to smile at him, not realizing how close he was. He was tall, but so was I, and my heels added at least three inches to my height. I found myself face to face with him, so close I could count the freckles on his nose.

I automatically took a step back, embarrassed. Will, on the other hand, didn't look bothered at all.

"What's this?" I asked, pointing at a piece of paper that was sitting on the counter. It had a few names scrawled across it.

"That's the sign-up sheet for Thursday nights," he replied.

"What's on Thursday nights?"

"Open mic night. Anyone who wants to can sign up. Then they can sing, play guitar, read a poem, whatever they want."

"Sounds interesting," I murmured.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool. Though sometimes when people with zero talent get up there, it's just excruciatingly painful. Like one time this guy recited a fifteen minute long poem about what's inside his sock drawer."

"Have you ever done it?" I asked, fiddling with the pen that lay beside the paper.

He laughed. "God, no. I'm not a writer or a musician. When I sing, dogs start howling." He paused, his eyes drifting down to the bracelets on my wrist. The ones I never left the house without putting on. The ones that covered the scars he'd seen the day before. "What about you?" he asked.

"Me?"

"Yeah, do you sing or anything?"

"Erm, yeah, I do sing actually," I replied. "I play the guitar too."

At that moment we were interrupted by a group of teenage girls wanting to order. I watched as Will smiled at them and took their orders. They all seemed to think he was cute and they giggled amongst themselves when he turned around to make their iced coffees. One of them even shot me a nasty look, like she thought I was his girlfriend or something.

"He has a nice ass," I heard one of them whisper.

I couldn't help myself—I turned and looked. She was right.

When the girls had gotten their coffees and left, Will turned back to me. "You should sign up," he said, gesturing toward the paper. "It's always nice to have talented people performing."

"How do you know I'm actually talented?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I just have a feeling."

I looked down at the paper warily. "I don't really like performing in front of people," I said. "I mostly just sing or play when I'm alone or with my family."

This wasn't actually true. I had no problem performing in front of strangers. I did it all the time. But I hadn't picked up a guitar to play or opened my mouth to sing in two weeks. Not since Nick had killed himself. I couldn't bring myself to. Because every time I even thought about it, my mind would automatically fill up with memories of him. Memories of him lying in his bed next to me, strumming his guitar softly as I drifted off to sleep. Memories of him cranking up the radio in his car as we drove somewhere, the two of us singing along loudly. Memories of Filch going off on him for constantly playing his guitar in the Hogwarts corridors.

I wasn't even sure why I'd brought the guitar with me to San Francisco. Just picking it up, even in its case, made me want to cry. Because I'd think about Nick's mother handing it to me after his funeral, telling me that he'd want me to have it. And I think about the look on her face as she said it. And how when I took it, I immediately wanted to give it back. Because it didn't belong to me. It was Nick's. Not mine. I already had a guitar. I didn't need his. When I got home, I had immediately set it down in the corner of my room and hadn't touched it until I was about to leave for the airport. I wasn't sure why I had grabbed it on my way out the door, but for some reason I had.

The day before, when Louis had mentioned it while we were in the car, I had frozen up. _Your_ guitar, he'd called it. And in my head all I could think was: No. No. No. It's not mine. It's Nick's. It's Nick's. It's Nick's.

But I couldn't really tell Will all of that. And the first lie that had popped into my head was that performing in front of people scared me.

He nodded because it was a pretty believable excuse. "Do you get your singing ability from your parents?"

"My dad," I said. "He was in a band when he was younger. And when I was a baby, he'd sing me to sleep. I mean, I don't actually remember him doing it because he left when I was a year old, but I've been told he did."

"So you don't have any memories of him?"

I smiled. "Trust me, I have plenty of memories of my dad. He left when I was one, but he came back when I was five. "

"He came back?"

"Yeah," I said. "He realized he'd made a mistake, so he asked my mum if he could be a part of our lives again."

"She took him back just like that? After he'd been gone for four years?"

"Well, _she_ didn't take him back. She was married to my stepdad, Teddy, by that point. But she let him back into our lives."

"And you don't resent him at all for leaving?"

I shook my head. "No," I said. "He and my mum were only 18 when I was born. He had some growing up to do before he could be a good father."

"_Is _he a good father?"

I nodded. "The best. Way too overprotective and completely embarrassing, but still the best."

I'd always been a bit of a daddy's girl. He'd taught me how to play the guitar and we'd play and sing together whenever I went over to his house. I'd always loved going over there when I was younger. Both he and his wife were muggles, so when I went over there I could actually watch television, talk on the phone, and use a computer. My mum and Teddy didn't have any of that stuff. In a way, I'd sort of grown up with the best of both worlds. I was completely familiar with both the magical world and the muggle world. I could brew a potion _and_ make microwave popcorn. I could Apparate _and_ drive a car. I could send letters via owl _and _text message.

"I don't mean to pry," said Will. "Sorry if I was coming off as rude. I was just curious."

"No, it's fine," I said. And surprisingly it was. Not that I had ever minded talking about my dad. It was just that recently I hadn't felt like talking much at all. About anything.

"My dad's dead," said Will, a little later, as we were closing up.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"He died before I was even born, so it's not like I can miss him or anything. That's why I asked whether you remembered your dad or not. Because we would have had something in common if you didn't."

"I guess we don't have anything in common then," I said.

"I'm sure we do," he said.

I smiled. "I guess we'll see."

"I guess we will," he replied, grinning back at me.

When I got home, it occurred to me that, except for the few minutes that we talking about playing guitar and singing, I had barely thought about Nick the entire day. There was something about Will that made me forget, even if it was just for a few hours, about what Nick had done. I was glad that we had begun to form a friendship. I was glad that he hadn't asked about the scars on my wrist. I was glad he didn't seem to think I was a suicidal freak.

Of course, while I lay on the couch that night, trying to fall asleep, all my usual thoughts about Nick came rushing back. They were always worse at night. Everything was always worse at night. Every fear, every worry, every regret. Everything seemed to intensify.

Every time I closed my eyes, I'd picture Nick lifting that gun to his head. And I'd wonder. I'd wonder and wonder and wonder. Why did he do it? Why? Why? Why?

I pulled my blanket tighter around my body and stared up at the ceiling, my eyes following a crack that stretched across the empty white expanse.

I hated being alone at night.

I _always_ felt alone. I missed being able to hold Nick's hand, to kiss him, to wrap myself in his arms.

But at night, in the dark, the loneliness felt even worse. I hated it.

I stood up and crept over to the window. Opening it, I stepped out onto the fire escape and made my way over to Will's flat. I knew that the window that led out onto the fire escape from his flat was his bedroom window.

I tapped gently on the glass and a few minutes later, he was pushing it open. He squinted out into the darkness at me. His hair was sticking up in all directions and it was the first time that I had ever seen him without his baseball cap.

"What are you doing here, Jackie?" he asked, yawning loudly.

"Can I sleep with you?" I asked.

His eyebrows shot up in the air. "We just met."

"I don't mean like that," I said. "I just mean sleep in your bed next to you."

I knew it was a strange thing to ask someone you barely knew. Someone you'd only met twice, once for only a few minutes the day before. But at that point I didn't care.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I don't like being alone at night," I said.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned again. "Fine," he said. "Come on in."

So I climbed through his window and lay down in his bed. He lay down beside me.

"Thanks for letting me do this," I said. "I know it's pretty weird."

"It's alright," he replied. "Everyone has their issues."

"I think I have more issues than most people do," I murmured. "I mean, you saw my wrist."

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

For some reason I did. So I told him everything. And he listened to it all. He nodded and made comments and he didn't seem to think badly of me and he didn't pile on the sympathy either. And I was glad.

After I finished the story, I could feel myself drifting off to sleep.

"It's strange," he said softly.

"What?" I mumbled, already having trouble keeping my eyes open.

"I haven't had a girl in this bed since I broke up with Anna in January."

Anna. His New Year's Resolution.

"Mmmm," was my only reply.

A few minutes later, I was asleep.

* * *

_Review! I'm serious! Do it now! Pretty please with sugar on top!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Jackie POV**

Sometime during the night, Will pulled me close. Or maybe I pulled him close. It was hard to know for sure. All I knew was that when I woke up my head was resting on his chest and his arm was wrapped around my shoulder.

I sat up immediately, horrified.

"Will," I hissed, shaking him a bit.

He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the light that was streaming in his window.

"Good morning," he said, smiling at me.

"Your arm was around me when I woke up," I said quietly.

"Oops," he said. "Sorry. I didn't mean to. It was probably instinctual."

I knew what he meant. I'm sure he'd reached for me thinking I was someone else. Anna.

Or perhaps I'd been the one to reach out, caught somewhere in between dreams and reality, in that groggy state when you forget. Forget that your boyfriend's dead. Forget that he's not lying beside you. Forget that you'll never wake up in his arms again.

"You never told me why you broke up with Anna," I said. All he'd told me was that she had been his on-again, off-again girlfriend who he'd finally dumped for what he hoped was the final time as a New Year's resolution.

"That," he said, as he slid out of bed, "is a very long story. And now is not the time for it. Right now it's time for breakfast."

"Breakfast?" I asked, following him as he crossed his tiny bedroom and stepped out into the living room.

"It's the most important meal of the day," he said. "And, in my opinion, the best meal of the day."

I'd never been much of a breakfast person, but I decided not to argue with him.

"I thought you quit smoking," I said, as we passed an ashtray piled high with cigarette butts.

"I did," he said, as we stepped through another doorway and emerged into the kitchen. "But my mom didn't."

"Is your mum home?" I asked.

He shook his head, as he opened the fridge and began rummaging through. "Nope. She hardly ever is, though."

"Where is she?"

He pulled out a carton of eggs and set them down on the counter. "Work," he said. "Right now she had three jobs."

My mouth dropped open. "Three jobs?"

He nodded. "Yeah, ever since I was a baby, she's had to work her ass off to support us. My dad died before I was born so she had to do it all on her own. I spent most of the time at my grandma's when I was young because I couldn't stay by myself and she couldn't afford daycare."

"Wow," I said.

"She's really stubborn too. She won't accept money from anyone. My grandma's always offering, but she won't take it."

As he continued making breakfast, he told me more about his family. I found out that his dad had been a wizard and his mum was a muggle. The grandma who had helped raise him was his dad's mum and she was a witch. He told me that she was the reason he knew so much about the Wizarding world. "Her house is filled with plants," he said. "The magical kind. All the ones you probably learned about in Herbology."

When I told him that I had hated Herbology class, he groaned. "Are you kidding?" he said. "Those plants were my freaking favorite thing as kid. They still are, actually. I've never really minded that I'm a squib, but sometime I really hated that I didn't have any magical ability just because I really wanted to go to Herbology class."

After we finished eating, I said goodbye.

"Thanks for letting me stay here," I said. "And thanks for the breakfast. It was delicious."

"No problem," he said, smiling lazily. "I'll see you on Monday, right? At work."

I nodded. "Yeah."

As I reached the door, I heard him say my name. I turned around.

"You wanna hang out today?" he asked. "You know, since we have the day off and everything. I can show you around the city, introduce you to some people."

"Okay, sure," I said. "I'll just go get showered and everything and meet you back here when I'm ready."

* * *

**Louis POV**

I don't know what it's like to be a parent. But I don't think I ever realized how much anxiety it could bring until I woke up on Saturday morning and realized that Jackie was nowhere to be found. If the minor heart attack I thought I was having is what a parent experiences every time they don't know where their kid is or they don't know what their kid is doing, then I don't know how any of them are still alive.

"Why didn't she leave a note?" I asked, pacing back and forth from the couch to the kitchen, where I would pick up the phone and stare at it for a couple seconds, as if doing so would magically cause her to call.

"Louis, relax," Kate said. She was leaning up against the kitchen counter, still dressed in her pajamas. "I'm sure she's fine, just exploring the city or something."

"Yeah, either that or she's dead!" I snapped, slamming the phone down. "She is my responsibility, Kate. If something happened to her, it will be my fault. And I will have to face the wrath of Victoire Lupin."

"I'm sure she's not dead."

"You don't know that! Who knows, maybe –"

At that moment, the door to the apartment opened, interrupting my angry tirade. And there, standing at the door, still in her pajamas, was Jackie. Seemingly alive.

"Where the hell have you been?" I snarled.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms. "With Will."

Kate cleared her throat. "I'm just gonna let you two talk this out," she said awkwardly. She quickly slipped into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

"What the hell do you mean 'with Will'?"

"I mean I spent the night with him," she said, her expression still defiant.

"Are you fucking kidding? You've known him for a day, Jackie!"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I knew Jackie was screwed up. I knew she had a lot of issues. But sleeping with some guy she had literally just met? I took a deep breath, trying to think logically. At least it was Will, I told myself. Will's a good guy. She could have been with some sort of crack head or rapist. She could be dead.

"I didn't have sex with him," she snapped. "God, give me some credit! We just slept."

"Really?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Do expect me to believe that?"

"Yes! Ask Will if you don't trust me. We didn't do anything!"

She stormed past me and grabbed her suitcase. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready. We're hanging out today, if that's okay with you. I promise I'll keep my clothes on."

She stepped into the bathroom and slammed the door. Kate opened the door to her room and stepped out cautiously.

"That sounded like it went well," she said, smirking.

"Shut up."

* * *

**Jackie POV**

"Well, Louis thinks I'm a whore," I said, as Will and I stepped out into the cool morning air.

He laughed. "And why is that?"

"Because I told him that I spent the night with you."

He nodded, squinting down the street. "Yeah, that would probably do it."

"I told him we didn't do anything, but I don't think he believed me."

"Well if he fires me, I guess I'll know why," he replied, chuckling. He grabbed my hand. "Come on, I have to show you something."

As the day proceeded, we explored what felt like every nook and cranny of San Francisco. We hopped on cable cars and visited Fisherman's Wharf and Chinatown. He showed me the best restaurants, including ones that were so expensive I felt bad even standing near them. We sat on a bench and took in the view of the Bay and the gorgeous bridge that stretched over it.

My personal favorite place we visited, however, had to be the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. With its decorative lanterns and statues, azalea-covered-waterfall, exotic flora, and intoxicating scent, I thought it had to be one of the most gorgeous places I'd ever been.

"It's so beautiful," I breathed.

Crouching down, I peered into the koi pond, watching the brightly colored fish flash by. So elegant. So carefree.

"I wish was one of them," I murmured.

"An orange fish?" Will asked, kneeling down beside me. "Why?"

"Look at them," I said. "They don't have a worry in the world. I'd love to be one of them, just so I could escape the real world and live somewhere as gorgeous as this."

"The real world's not that bad."

"Sometimes it is," I said. Almost instinctually, my right hand flew to the bracelets on my left wrist, the bracelets that covered the scars that showed just how bad the world, or life, could get.

"Sometimes," he agreed, "but not always."

"You want to get something to eat?" I asked, just to change the subject. "I'm starving."

"I know a great place to get dinner," he said, grinning. "And it's absolutely free."

The first thing I noticed when I stepped into Will's grandmother's house were the three pictures on her mantle.

The first picture was of Will. It appeared to have been taken a few years ago, but the faded baseball cap on his head and dimple on his right cheek made him instantly recognizable.

The second picture was of a boy I didn't recognize, who looked to be about 16 or 17. In the photo, he was wearing the same baseball cap as Will, but it looked much less worn, new even. The picture was old, and I had a strong feeling that it was Will's father when he was a teenager. This was his mum's house, after all. It would also explain why Will never seemed to take of that cap. It was probably one of the few things he had left of a father who had died before he was even born.

The third picture was the one that surprised me the most. It was a photograph of my great-uncle Harry.

"Er, why is that here?" I asked, pointing at it.

Will laughed. "He's the savior of the Wizarding world, my grandmother's hero."

"Oh," I said. "That's, erm… wow."

"Willim, darling, what a surprise!"

I turned around. Will's grandmother was standing at the bottom of the stairs, beaming at us. Her white hair was pulled into a bun and she was wearing an apron over a paisley blouse and jeans.

"Who's your lovely friend?"

"This is Jackie," he said. "Jackie, this is my grandma."

"Hello," I said.

"Hello, dear," she said, immediately pulling me into a hug. It felt nice to be hugged by someone who wasn't doing it out of pity. Over the past couple weeks, I'd received too many hugs like that. This wasn't like that though. This woman had no idea who I was, had no idea that my boyfriend had killed himself, had no idea that I'd harmed myself.

"You can call me Abby," she said kindly, as she pulled away. "I was just making dinner, pot roast to be exact. Will you two be joining me?"

Will nodded. "We'd be crazy not to. Your pot roast is the best in the world."

"You're so sweet, William. So very like your father."

For a moment her face grew sad, but then she shook her head and smiled. "The food will be ready in a minute. In the meantime, you two just make yourselves at home."

"My great-uncle is on your wall," I blurted out, just as she was turning to leave.

"Excuse me?"

I pointed at the picture. "Harry Potter."

Her mouth dropped open. "Harry Potter is your great-uncle?"

I nodded. "My mum's maiden name is Weasley. But now she's a Lupin."

"A Lupin? Like Remus Lupin, the Marauder who died fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, Remus was my step-dad's father."

"Merlin's beard," she murmured, turning to look at her grandson. "William, wherever did you find this girl?"

* * *

**I know that it's been way, way too long since I last updated. I'm really sorry. I've been busy with school and with writing other stuff. I've even started writing a story that isn't fanfiction. Also, I just procrastinate way too much. **

**Anyway, I hope everyone had a good Christmas (or whatever holiday you celebrate). **

**Happy New Year!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Jackie POV**

"You should be up there," Will said.

It was Thursday night, which meant it was open-mic night at Louis's shop. The place was more crowded than I'd ever seen it; every seat was taken and people lined the walls, craning to see the stool and microphone that was set up near the back. It had been pretty hectic for Will and I at first, as we tried to fill all their orders, but things had slowed down by now and we were leaning up against the counter, listening to a woman softly strum her guitar. Her breathy voice filled the room, and everyone was quietly listening.

I just shook my head. I wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

He shrugged and turned away, clapping along with everyone else as the woman stood up and made her way off the tiny stage. She was followed by two guys in their twenties who told us they were only there because they lost a bet. They then proceeded to sing a Whitney Houston song, loudly and off-key. Will grimaced, turning back to me.

"You'd be better than them," he said.

"How do you know?" I asked. "Maybe I suck."

"There's no way you suck this bad," he said, shaking his head. "No way."

"Excuse me," an irritated voice said. "I'd like to order a cup of coffee, please."

I turned around. A man who looked to be about thirty was standing there, his arms crossed, an annoyed expression on his face. He was wearing a ratty old T-shirt and his jeans were covered in paint. I figured that he hadn't changed before coming here after he got off work.

"Sorry," I said "Didn't see you there."

"Obviously," he muttered, scowling. "I would expect a little better service. I've heard god things about this place."

Something inside me snapped. "I said I was sorry, dude. You were standing there for a what, a minute? Get over it!"

The man looked taken aback, his brown eyes widening. He was kind of cute, I noticed, before mentally slapping myself. Being cute did not make up for the fact that he was a complete jackass.

"Sorry," he mumbled, having the decency to look a bit ashamed. "I've been having a bad week. My wife left me. Took our daughter with her."

"Oh," I said, feeling a bit uncomfortable. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that."

He shrugged. "Whatever. She'll come back. Probably."

"Er, can I take your order?" I asked, desperate to change the subject.

After he walked away, Will chuckled. "Jesus," he said. "Did he mistake you for his shrink? Or a bartender. That was too much information."

"Poor guy," I said, watching as he went to stand in the corner by himself. "He's here by himself."

"Yeah," said Will, his gaze drifting back to the stage. He was already losing interest in the man, I could tell. I should have been too, but for some reason I wasn't. I felt an odd sort of connection to him, one that I couldn't really explain.

"I'm gonna go talk to him," I said suddenly.

Will looked at me like I was crazy. "Why?"

"Dunno," I said, shrugging. "But yell if you need me, okay?"

I walked around to the other side of the counter and made my way through the crowd of people, until I finally reached him.

"Hey," I said.

The man looked up, a surprised look on his face. "Hey."

* * *

**Louis POV**

"I'm going to have a baby," Kate announced.

The two of us were sitting at home on the couch, watching television.

"What?" I shouted, completely caught off guard. "You're _pregnant_! Who the hell did you sleep with?"

"Calm down, Lou," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm not pregnant. I just meant that I've decided that I want to be. That conversation we were having last week got me thinking and I realized that I'm not getting any younger. I don't want to wait until I find myself a man. I want to have a baby now."

"So, you're going to get a sperm donor?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yup."

"Wow," I said. "That's…wow. Are you sure about this?"

She nodded. "Positive."

"Wow," I said again.

She picked up the remote and clicked off the television. "Louis," she said, her voice more serious now. "I was thinking that I wanted you to be my sperm donor."

"Excuse me?"

"It would be great," she continued, as if I hadn't spoken. "I mean, you're gonna be living with the baby and me anyway, so why shouldn't you be its biological father? Besides, this way I know the baby's going to have great genes. You're handsome and smart. What else would I look for in the father of my baby."

"Whoa," I said, holding up my hands. "Slow down, Kate. Think about this logically for a minute, okay? If I donate my sperm to you, I will be that kid's actual father. We will both be the biological parents of some kid, raising it together, in the same apartment, but as platonic friends instead of partners. Does that not sound like a recipe for disaster to you? What if you meet someone and move out? What if I meet someone and move out? This whole thing sounds like it would end with the kid spending years in therapy. If you want to have a baby, than I am one hundred percent on board with that. But you're not getting my sperm, okay?"

She smiled. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Lou. She scooted closer and laid her head on my shoulder. "Turn the TV back on," she said. "I wanna see how the movie ends."

"She ends up with the blonde guy," I said. "I saw this last month."

"Gee, thanks for the spoiler."

"It's a crappy movie. I was saving you from actually having to suffer through the whole thing."

"You just want to watch that stupid singing show."

"That's a good show!"

"No, it's not."

"Whatever," I said. "We're watching it."

"We can watch it if you promise to go out with guy I met today."

"I'm not going on a blind date."

"He's really nice. And actually gay. I made sure this time."

I rolled my eyes, remembering the last time Kat had tried to set me up with someone. I'd shown up at the restaurant and the guy had been totally freaked out to discover that I was a guy. I don't know how Kate got him to agree to go out with me without mentioning my name or my gender, but the whole thing had been an awkward mess.

"Kate, this is San Francisco. There are gay guys everywhere. Just because you happened to meet one of them today and discovered he's nice, doesn't mean that he and I would hit it off at all."

"Come on," she said. "Just one date. For me?"

"Nope," I said.

She grabbed the remote out of my hands. "Then we're finishing the movie."

"Fine," I grumbled. "But the acting only gets worse, I'm warning you now."

* * *

**Jackie POV**

It was closing time. Will and I were making our way around the shop, wiping off tables and scooting in chairs.

"You were talking to that guy for a long time," Will commented out of the blue. There was something off in the tone of his voice, but I couldn't quite tell what it was.

"Oh," I said, as I scrubbed at a particularly nasty stain on one of the corner tables. "Yeah. He's actually pretty cool."

"Cool?" Will was looking at me with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah. Cool. Interesting. Entertaining. Nice. Whatever."

"Jackie, that dude's like thirty. He has a wife and kid. Stay away."

"His wife left him," I reminded Will.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, right. Because that makes it okay."

"Shut up, Will," I said. "It's not like I shagged him or anything. I can take care of myself, you know."

We were finished cleaning at this point, and Will was turning off the lights. We headed toward the door in silence.

"Jackie," he said quietly, as he locked up behind us. "I know you're still heartbroken about Nick –"

I stayed silent.

"—but that doesn't make it okay for you to start behaving recklessly. Stay away from this guy, okay?"

I let out a heavy sigh. "Okay, _Dad. _Whatever you say_."_

He shook his head. "I'm saying this because you're my friend, Jackie."

"I know. I know. But you don't have to worry about me, Will. I have plenty of other people to do that for me."

"Who?" he asked. "Your parents back in England? They're not even here."

"Louis is," I reminded him.

"I think it's obvious that Louis has no idea how to deal with you," Will said.

That was true. Louis seemed to think that I was nothing but a moody, uncontrollable, suicidal slut who slept with people she'd known for only a day. He still thought that Will and I had shagged, and he was still pissed. Over the past few days, he mostly avoided me, except for the occasional reminder to go to work or take out the trash. I think he was seriously regretting telling my mum that he was fine with me coming here for the entire summer.

* * *

That night, as I lay in bed, I thought about the guy from the shop. Tyler. There had been something about him that had drawn me in. At first I hadn't been sure of what it was, but after talking to him for a few minutes, it had hit me. His eyes. They were so similar to Nick's that it was almost eerie. Brown with flecks of gold. They were wide and gorgeous, both sets framed with thick lashes.

For a moment, as I looked into Tyler's eyes, it had been as if Nick had come back to me.

* * *

**Yeah, this chapter is way too short and it's not very good, but it's been forever since I updated this story so I thought I'd put it up anyway.**


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